Page 148 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

“Your point?” I snap.

“My point is that you’re right. You have a good reason to be frustrated. He should’ve talked to you and made his feelings clear as well as his plans. But he’s right too. He has a good reason to be scared you’ll run at the drop of a hat, which, despite your promise to keep fighting for your relationship, is exactly what you’re doing.”

If she’d slapped me, I would’ve been less offended.

With a glare, I argue, “I’m not running.”

“Then, what are you doing?”

“I’m…waiting.”

“For what?” she asks.

It’s an excellent question. I’m waiting for a lot of things. I’m waiting for Theo to show he cares. To prove he cares. To prove he wants this. Wants us. To prove he wants to communicate and grow and fight for our relationship. Is it too much to ask?

Nibbling on my thumbnail, I shake off the thought and ask, “Have you decided what you’re going to do with Colt? Are you moving with him? Are you staying here?”

“It’s still up in the air. Part of me thinks it’s why Colt chose the Lions. Because they’re close, and I won’t feel any pressure to follow him across the country until I’m ready.”

“And you aren’t ready?” I prod.

“Part of me is. The other part is still terrified.”

“What do you have to be scared of? You and Colt are like…the dream team of relationships.”

“He’s pretty perfect,” she admits with a laugh. “Relationships are never easy, though, Blake, even if they are worth fighting for. Especially when you find someone as awesome as your brother…and Theo.” She nudges her shoulder with mine.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I mumble. “Now, get out of here. You’re keeping my brother waiting. Have fun on your date.”

“We will.”

With a half-assed wave, I watch her close the front door and walk toward the kitchen, picking up the thick, worn envelope.

My name is scrawled across the front. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the font looks a hell of a lot like Theo wrote it.

Or maybe I’m imagining things.

I set the envelope down and puff out my cheeks.

Damn him.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I pull it out of the front pouch of my black hoodie.

Theo: Miss you.

Speak of the devil.

My chest pinches as I read his message. That’s all he has to say? No, Can I come over?

Or, Can we talk?

Or how about, Hey, I was thinking about the contracts, and I’d love to hear your opinion.

I let out a sigh and type my response.

Blake: Miss you too.

Theo: I’m thinking about you.

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